i am feeling dramatic

academicgangster  asked:

Title meme: "Moonlight Sonata"

Everyone always says how much Tony is like his father Howard, how much he looks like him, how he is an inventor and a genius just like him, how his mannerisms and his ticks are just like him, too.

There is a certain truth to it, because after all, Tony Stark has been groomed all his life to be just like his father.

If there are two stark differences from his father, it’s the expressive eyes and the love for music he has definitely inherited from his mother. His father had never any interest in music, and frankly, he scoffed at Tony wanting to learn how to play the piano just like his mother. It was the one time his mother put her foot down, however, and playing the piano he did learn.

His teacher often told him that certain pieces were too difficult for him to learn yet, so he learned them out of spite. His mother loved the Moonlight Sonata, so he was going to learn it for her birthday, by heart and without mistake, and if he had to do it on his own, he was going to. It was going to be perfect.

After his mother’s death, he has avoided the piano, and he will not go anywhere near Beethoven or any other composer, for that matter. But the music is always in his head, playing endlessly, until one day, he finds himself in front of a piano, drunk and overwhelmed with the question: How much is Tony actually his own self?

I guess what the whole Vilde in season four thing comes down to, for me personally anyway, is the feeling of not being taken entirely seriously. I think one of the great strengths of skam is that it rarely underestimates its viewers the way shows aimed at younger people so often do. instead, skam trusts us. trusts us to not need everything spelled out to figure it out, to make up our own minds about people and places and situations, to pick up all of the the bread crumbs left for us and fashion it into something that’s lovely to have for dinner.

anger isn’t shown by swearing and yelling and cursing because skam trusts us to only need a loaded moment of silence to realize just how angry someone is. hurt isn’t shown by a crying fit or a dramatic fall on the bed or walking through the rain in the dark because skam trusts us to only need a single tear to figure out just how hurt someone is. love isn’t shown by a candlelit dinner for two or poems in the moonlight or a serenade underneath a balcony because an early morning dance party in the kitchen is all we need to get how in love someone is.

and that’s what feels off with the Vilde situation. there seems to be no trust that we, the viewers, can figure out something’s up with her and Magnus without making her spit into his mouth. there seems to be no trust that we can realize something’s not right between her and Sana without making her very cruelly roll her eyes whenever Sana shows just a little bit of her world. there seems to be no trust that we can notice Vilde being desperate for other people’s approval without her dumping her closest friends to get closer to the girls who kicked her out of the group in the first place.

and that’s just the slightest bit annoying to me.

ive had like one crush my entire life and even then i was like??? do i just really want to be your friend???? and i kind of hate that


My amazing friend @notallpotatoesarefrenchfries and I were talking about potential fic ideas, and so she and I decided I could write using these different prompts from the dialogue prompt list I reblogged a while back. The prompts are:

#42 - “I didn’t mean to.” #50 - “I know. I don’t deserve you.” #54 - “Please breathe. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t-” I also added in #42 - “Can you hear me?”

TW: Panic attacks, self-doubt/dislike

Disclaimer: I know people have different experiences when having panic attacks. If you read this and do not identify with it, please do not say I am wrong or anything like that. I am writing from my own experience of panic attacks, so I am writing what I know. I am not glorifying or romanticizing panic attacks in any way, I want to make that clear, because I do not want to trigger anyone.

My friend suggested the prompts, I decided to make them one thing. Prepare for the angst :)

Summary: After Roman’s treatment of Patton in the latest video, Anxiety demands that the male apologize for his actions. Words are said, misinterpreted, and all Anxiety wants to do is get that door open.

AO3 link here.

Pairing: Prinxiety! This will be angsty, friends. Eventual fluff!

Keep reading

rt if u wanna scream

Two Sugars, Extra Cream

Hello, lovelies! 

I do not expect chapter 2 of Bid Ye Soft Farewell to be up until next week (My SO is in town and I haven’t seen him in a while). SO, I’ve created this silly little ficlet in the meantime. Kind of crazy, kind of out of character. But I had a hell of a good time writing it! Hope you enjoy!

Caramel-Nut Latte, extra hot. Okay, 2 pumps caramel, 3 pumps hazelnut. 2 shots of espresso. Steam milk for extra 20 seconds and a caramel drizzle on top…

Beautiful, Beauchamp. You’re a goddamn coffee wizard.

“Caramel-Nut Latte for Duncan!”

I had been working for Mrs. Fitz for nearly a year at this point while putting myself through school. Though I loved the work that I did at university, there was always something so comforting and homey about the café. Perhaps it was the mismatched green walls, the exposed brick. Perhaps it was the baubles thrown haphazardly on the shelves, or the odd paintings Mrs. Fitz liked to pick up at second-hand shops. (The one with the chimpanzee queen was my favorite). Perhaps it was just the constant smell of coffee that reminded me of my Uncle Lamb– God rest his soul. It was an odd little place, but it was mine. I belonged here.

As if conjured by my own thoughts, I heard the tell-tale backfire of Mrs. Fitz’s ridiculously old car.  She really needed to upgrade.

“Ooooh, Claire, lass! Come help me with the milk! I heard we were runnin’ low, so I bought three crates full!!” Mrs. Fitz was terribly excited about that milk. I, however, did not share in that joy. I knew “helping” in this case meant “carry them all in for me.”

“Aye, aye, Captain Fitz,” I saluted her before going into the trenches. Or the trunk of her car. They looked similar at any rate.

She was making herself a latte when I walked back in with the third crate of milk.

“Mrs. Fitz! I’m utterly shocked that you would waste company products for your own use!” I placed my hand over my heart dramatically.

“Ach. I bought the stuff. I’ll do wi’ it what I please.” And with that she took a sip, smiling the whole time. Should I tell her she had foam on her lip? “Help yourself? I need to speak wi’ ye for a moment.” I waved her off.

“I’m all right. What’s going on?”

“My nephew is moving back into town, and he was needin’ a job. I told him he could work here. Could ye train him a bit? Show him how everything works?”

“Mrs. Fitz…” I was feeling extra dramatic today.

“Claire, dinna…”

“I am appalled that you would use your position as owner and operator of this establishment to hire those you are close to. Where is the democracy?”

“Tis no a democracy. Tis a dictatorship.” Mrs. Fitz was the great-auntie I never knew I wanted. I couldn’t help but laugh at her wit.

“Of, course I’ll help. When is he coming?”

“This Saturday, he’ll be back.”

“I’ll be here. Oh, and Mrs. Fitz?”


“You’ve got some foam on your lip.”


Saturday mornings were slow mornings. No one had to be at work. Well, besides me, I suppose.

I was leaning against the counter when the overhead door bell jingled. Perk up, Beauchamp. Don’t look like a slacker.

“First customer of the day! Congrats! What can I get for you?” I looked up at the man. I mean, really up. Could a man really be that tall, or were two kids pulling a Little Rascals on me? He leaned down, elbows on the counter. Now, I could really see him. Red curls. Blue eyes. Freckled nose. Was he made out of marble? I had never seen features so sharp.

“Are ye Claire?” His voice was like the honey I put in my Darjeeling.

“Yes, I am. Who wants to know?”

“I do. I’m Jamie. Mrs. Fitz is my great-auntie. She said ye’d be helping me? Learn, I mean.”

“OH! Of course! I’m sorry. Come in, come in,” I said as I lifted the flip-counter. He ducked under my arm to get through. “Sorry, that was a bit awkward. You could have lifted it yourself.”

“Aye, it’s all right. I appreciate the chivalry, madam.” He drew out the word ‘madam’ as long as he could. I bowed in return. He chuckled. We were off to a good start, here.

“So, Jamie what to you know about coffee?” His cat-eyes went totally round at the question.

“Well, ye drink it.”

“Mmhmm. And have you ever made coffee before?” I was skeptical that he had even heard the word coffee before today.

“Aye! I make it every day in my Bunn coffeemaker.”

“Bunns are for shmucks. This is the big league. Can you handle it?” He faked a look of concern before turning his attention back on me.

“Aye, I think so.” He nodded as if trying to convince himself.

“Can you take the heat?!” I was starting to sound like a coach, and he, my star player.


“All right! Let’s start with espresso, shall we?”


“So, you’ve grinded the espresso beans. Now what?”

“I put it in the machine…”

“No, no! You’re missing a step!”

“I tamp it!”

“Yes!” Jamie was a quick learner, his brain absorbing the things I said and did. Like a big ole ginger sponge. “You’re really getting the hang of it, especially for someone who didn’t even know what a tamper was when he woke up this morning.”

“It looks a bit like a weapon.” He rolled the bell shaped instrument in his hands.

“Perhaps to people with violent tendencies,” I said, giving him a pointed look. He just rolled his eyes. “How about you try to make yourself a latte or cappuccino?”

“Nay. I dinna drink lattes,” he answered distractedly, still playing with the tamper.

“Have you ever tried one?”

“No. I’m a simple man. Dark roast. Two sugars. Extra cream. These other drinks, they’re much too fancy for me.”

“Oh, Jamie,” I whined. “Be adventurous. Live a little!”

“Aye! All right! If it’ll get ye to stop squealing like a wee hog!”

“Did you just call me a hog?” I should be offended shouldn’t I?

“No, I said ye were like a hog. Big difference.” Yeah, definitely offended.

“Oh, well. Of course. Huge difference.”

“Oh, come, Sassenach. I was only teasing ye.” Oh, no, Mr. Fraser. You would not get off that easily.

“I know,” I mustered to most dejected voice. “No, big deal, right?” Could I fake cry right now? That would be the icing on this revenge cake.

“Claire, lass. Truly. I dinna mean it. Ye’re no like a hog. Ye ken that right?” God, that sincerity was killing me. I’d have to put him out of his misery…

“Oh, I know,” I perked up with a huge smile on my face. I’m pretty sure I was showing top and bottom teeth. Realization cam over his face.

“You wee-“


“Ye’ll pay for that. Make no mistake.”

“Bring it on, Fraser,” I crooked my fingers at him, and then quickly let them fall. “Later. We have a task to accomplish.”

“Which would be…?”

“You. Drinking some frilly, fancy coffee you wouldn’t have otherwise.”



               I decided to make Jamie my favorite specialty latte. 1 pump chocolate. 2 pumps almond. 2 pumps coconut. 3 shots of espresso. Extra hot. Whipped cream and chocolate drizzle. I handed it to him hesitantly.

“What did ye put in this potion?”

“Just drink it, Ron Weasley.”

He took a small sip, smacking his lips a bit and licking cream off his mouth. That motion was a bit distracting.

“So…?” He contemplated for a second, eyes studying the ceiling.

“Weel, tis a bit sweeter than I like…”


“But, it’s no bad. Well done, Sassenach.” I blushed prettily and batted my lashes.

“They do say I make the best coffee in town.” This wasn’t a lie. Some people did say that.

“Do they now? Well, I’m glad I was adventurous and tried one of your frilly lattes.”

“Good.” We sat in silence for a few moments, as customers milled around. He was sipping coffee. I was day dreaming about that argument I had with a customer last month… What an arse.

“Claire.” Jamie broke me from my reverie.  

“Jamie,” I answered just as formally.

“Since I’m being daring, I’d like to ask ye a question.”

“Um, sure.” Weird, but okay. He took a deep breath.

“Would ye like to go to dinner wi’ me sometime?” That was definitely not the question I was expecting. I was thinking more along the lines of ‘Not to be rude, but why does your hair look like that?’ or ‘Can you help me bury a body?’

“I’m sorry?”

“Dinner. Wi’ me. Tonight, possibly?”

“I wasn’t expecting that, but yes. Jamie, I would love to have dinner with you.” I pleasant surprise, that was.

“Aye? Really?”

“Yes, really.”

“Thank God. That could have been embarrassing. Is 7 okay?”

“7 sound perfect.” Jamie Fraser, prepare to get the pants charmed off of you.

Hopefully literally.

Seriously? [Teen!Sam Drake]

Pairings: Teen!Sam Drake x Reader

Request: n/a

About: Sam Drake and the reader outside at midnight, sharing a bottle of vodka. Secrets and suggestive conversations ensue. 

Warnings: NSFW mentions, mention of drugs, alcohol, mentions of abuse (geez angsty)

Inspiration: x

Originally posted by z1r43l

“Hey, calm down,” Sam ushered, catching your fist as you readied it to thump against the skating park ramp. You let out a deep breath, your heart hammering as you willed away the saddened tears in your eyes, angry at yourself for getting upset.

“Fuck! Okay, I’m sorry,” you breathed, exasperated. “I’m just feeling really suffocated in that damn house. Those stupid inconsiderate nuns are starting to piss me off. Am I being dramatic? I feel like I’m being dramatic.”

“A little,” Sam teased, to which you responded by thumping his shoulder. “Ouch. That hurt, you know. I’m sensitive.”

You laughed a little, “yeah, right.”

“It’s true,” Sam spread his arms out, “I am a man in touch with my emotions. Girls think that’s hot, right?”

“Oh, yeah,” I winked at him, “I’m so turned on right now.” 

Sam laughed. “Well, that’s the sort of effect I have on the ladies. Can’t blame them, either.”

“What?” You asked, frowning in sarcastic confusion and laughing. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I’m a total hit with chicks! They love me,” Sam continued. “A total specimen. Irresistible, charming, dash-”

“Sam, have you ever even got laid?” You laughed, leaning back against the bars of the ramp you were sat on, your legs dangling over the edge, your skateboard to your side. 

“Sure I have,” Sam responded quickly.

“Oh, yeah, to who?” You rose a brow at him, turning to face him. 

“To Crystal,” he announced, folding his arms as if announcing an achievement. In response, you rolled your eyes. That girls name always left a bitter taste in your stomach. She was friendly and she was gorgeous, which was the worst part. You didn’t like her.

“And how long did that take? A week?” You shot back at him teasingly.

“A couple months,” he shrugged. “Why does it matter, anyway? What about you, huh?”

“Sure,” you shrugged. “Twice in my whole life. Both horrible, scarring experiences,” you laughed.

“What happened?” Sam asked.

“I don’t think that’s a territory I want to tread foot in again, thank you very much,” you shook your head, rummaging through your bag and pulling out a bottle of cheap vodka. “Want some?”

“Sure,” he accepted, taking a couple of swigs before wincing and handing it back to you. “You’re still telling me this story, though.”

Rolling your eyes, you leaned back and took a swig. “Ah, let’s see. Well, the first guy, his name was Keith or something. Kris? Maybe. I don’t know, they don’t sound like jock names. What’s a jock name that begins with K?”

“Seriously? You don’t even remember his name?” Sam laughed, humming for a while. “Kyle, maybe?”

“Yeah, that’s it,” you laughed as he got it right, taking another swig before passing him the bottle again. “Well yeah, it was at high-school party. I was fifteen. He was seventeen I think, and that was just so cool to me. And yeah, it lasted for about thirty seconds and was the most painful experience ever, in some random strangers bathroom.”

“Classy. Sounds like a great life experience,” Sam teased. “Okay, what about the other one?”

“My drug dealer?” You said it like it was a question. 

“You had sex for drugs?” Sam was taken aback, but you shook your head quickly. 

“Oh, god no, definitely not,” you denied. “He was super cute and I was into him, so we hooked up a few times. He used me and kinda broke my heart,” you shrugged, “but yeah, he totally supplied me with free weed after that for like three months, but that wasn’t my initial idea.” You sucked in a breath, still feeling a pang of hurt. You truly did care about that stupid idiot, and you thought he’d felt the same. He’d been nice and genuine, but he’d used you. 

“Tough stuff,” Sam took a swig of alcohol, “they both sound like total assholes, though. You deserve better than that.”

“Name one guy that’d be fucking worth any of my time,” you rolled your eyes, slightly bitter, slightly tipsy. 

Feeling the extra courage from his edge of alcohol, he perked up. “Well, me for starters.”

You glanced over at him for a brief second, his eyes sparkling and his cheeks flushed. Whether that be from the alcohol or his statement, you couldn’t tell. Shuffling, you laughed a little.

“You’re worth all my time, Sam,” you teased, a small grin on your face. “Could you imagine the nuns if they found out? They already know I’m a dreadful sinner, Morgan.”

“Well, they wouldn’t have to find out, would they?” Sam nudged your side playfully, clearly getting excited about the idea. You would be totally down for that, but you’re not sure your emotional stability could handle that. You acted like you were a tough, totally nonchalant girl who didn’t care about anything, but you were quite the contrary. You cared quite a lot. 

“Why would you want to be with me anyway? Or at least infatuate yourself with me, albeit romantically, let alone sexually,” you drawled. “I’m a good-for-nothing seventeen year old who’s parents used to beat the crap out of because they were bored.”

Sam winced at your words and you felt a little guilty for saying that sort of thing. It wasn’t his normality and you had to remember that. 

“Not everybody feels that way about you, you know,” Sam sighed, “not everyone wants to hurt you.”

“Seems like it.”

“Okay, you’re being dramatic now,” Sam smiled sarcastically. “Course they don’t. Nate loves you to bits, you know.”

“Oh, yeah? And you?” You rose a brow, guarding your smirk behind the neck of the vodka bottle as you sucked the dregs from the bottom. 

“More than you’d ever know,” he shook his head, running his fingers through his hair. 

“Huh?” You questioned, not quite catching his words.

“Never mind,” Sam smiled, pulling himself to your feet. “Come on. Let’s get your sobered up before you get back to the orphanage. If the nuns see you drunk again you’ll be sleeping in the ‘dungeon’ again.”

“Oh, right,” you shuddered. The ‘dungeon’ was really just the basement where they isolated you from the others to pray until they felt you’d been forgiven. The worst of kids had been down there for a week, at most. “Okay.”

“Come on,” Sam offered you his hand, which you took, easing down the ramp with him. “Let’s get you back, yeah?”


i woke up today still thinking about logan and ive had this deep feeling of sadness and emptiness i am not being dramatic. like it was such an amazing film in every way. i am almost 24 so i literally grew up with hugh jackman’s wolverine and patrick stewart’s charles xavier. 17 years man. this just marked the end of an era for xmen and for me i am still hurt i will never be the same

i wasn’t sure where i stood on that until recently, but now it seems only fair to let you guys know that this is no longer, in any way, shape or form, an ed related blog.

nothing will be deleted, i am always 200% happy to post and discuss dave anon, i’m still signed up for the big bang, and knowing me i’ll occasionally still have an opinion i won’t be able to stop myself posting. but because i know a most of you initially followed me for ed content, it seems right to let you guys know. it’s not a matter or fandom or  the boys or wtv. simply, after this week, i no longer watch the show.

basically this blog will now be exactly what it’s been these past couple of weeks :)

anonymous asked:


Wow, Crazy Anon is feeling extra dramatic today.

It is not a joke. Again, I don’t know when it’ll be out because I’m only five chapters deep (out of the standard twenty+epilogue), but everything is outlined, I have blueprints, I have the cover, I have dialogue, I know the ultimate endgame (Emison, obviously), etc. Just… don’t hold your breath while waiting. You know I work as fast as I can, but my lazy ass has been getting distracted lately even though I’m trying to fix that.

Yeah, whatevs, here’s some unrevised dialogue:


hi!! so I’m not new to the studyblr community but I haven’t made an introduction here so I thought I’d make one!

• I’m a boy (pronouns he/him)
• I’m Norwegian
• I love English specifically but alsO LOVEEE Latin!!
• My name is only known to my close friends - so you can refer to me as The Poet or I.H.H
• This is a writing blog, booklr and studyblr all in one
• I love dogs???
• I hate summer break and want to study/be at school 24/7
• I LOVE @m-l-rio SO MUCHHH Okay good now you know
• I answer all questions (regardless what they’re about) and I continue poems if you send me one and mark it with xxxyou at the very end
• I love friends but prefer to be alone
• I cant work in groups all that well
• I am v dramatic
• also an introvert
• Tumblr is a place I feel like I can be 1000% myself

okayyy that was a lot! well, I’m not going to bother you anymore!
I track #study with the poet and #IHH
Im just gonna tag all my faves:

( @m-l-rio
@dukeofbookingham )

wheres that one post where its like “deleting ur posts after a breakdown” w a pic of a broom + dustpan u know the one

Leave Me

summary: you were separated from your family from a young age. thrown into a cell and forced to serve as a lab-rat for hydra, you would’ve lost all your will to live, if not for the fella in the cell next to you.

pairing: bucky x reader (not really romance kissy lovey-dovey stuff tho!)

warnings: murder? (is that a warning? it probably is, who am i kidding), angst, capitivity, torture (more like mention of torture but eiTHER WAY it’s still torture) and probably swear words?? i mean, i didn’t really check but i swear so much that sometimes i’m not even aware of it lmfao so probably like one “don’t let your grandma read this” word

word count: 1913 words

a/n: first fic? yay? nay? i’m not sure if i like it or if i will continue writing but we’ll see. special thanks tO THE LOVELY @buckyywiththegoodhair for editing and making this thing tolerable for the internet. i loVE YOU!


Originally posted by slayalec

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sammi121713  asked:

I am legit scared that the show I love will leave a terrible taste in my mouth with how it ends . Like it doesn't feel like we're about to end the series, just a season . It sucks because I honestly don't trust Marlene will deliver, at least not to the portion of fans who actually tune in for the mystery and not the romance . I'm really terrified, and I know ppl are like stop being dramatic it's just a show , but I really would feel betrayed . Lol, idk, maybe I am being too dramatic .

That’s absolutely not dramatic at all. This isn’t a mini series like 13 Reasons Why (which somehow got a second season!?) This isn’t Eye Candy which only got 10 episodes. This is something that we’ve had in our lives for 7 years. A LOT has happened in my life in the past 7 years and this show has been there with me every step of the way. It’s not dramatic at all to want the best for the show that’s provided so much :)

I have absolutely no faith that we’ll get answers to mysteries from before the time jump. We found out who killed Jessica and now, I feel like Marlene planned the final 5 episodes as if “ahhhh we revealed Jessica’s killer! Pre time jump is done! All that’s left is Charlotte’s killer and AD!” Anything from pre-time jump that is answered is just a bonus. I’m really putting my expectations at an all time low. It’s just the safest way to watch this show!